Greyer Every Day
by TruestBlue
Summary: When it first started, you could only see a thin silver line from a third story window at the end of the hall. After that, it got a little greyer every day...HPDM! M for lang. and sex.
1. Danger in the Wind

" _Greyer Every Day" Chapter One: Danger in the Wind_

_Author's Note: This whole "Starting-up-a-new-story-when-I-should-be-finishing-the-other-ones" thing has to stop! But I can't help it… _

_Thanks to my wonderful beta, "EpitomeOfDistraction"_

_-speaky thing-_

**-thinky thing-**

-Truest Blue thing!-

_Here goes!

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_DangerInTheWind_

When it first started, you could only see a thin silver line from a third-story window at the end of the hall. After that, it got a little greyer every day.

Harry sat in the back of his common room, eyes bright, but not really seeing. He listened to the chatter ebbing in and out, terrified and enthralled. Caught wafts of gossip shifting past his ears. He wasn't fooled though; he knew they lived for this. He wanted to scream, mock them, tell them just how very shallow he thought they were. The only thing that kept him from doing just that, he supposed, was the sheer hypocrisy of it. Living for drama was better than living for nothing at all.

"_Maybe 10 days or more."_

"_Nothing they can do to control it."_

"_No owls, in or out." _

He always thought that a woman's whisper sounded a bit like the wind. Though he had to admit it hardly compared, anymore, to the threatening gasps of air pressing up against the frosty panes. Not in these times.

Harry never knew what to think of this sort of thing. He hardly cared; it's not as if he'd been going home for the holidays anyways. So he chose not to think, and not to see, and only to hear. Hearing wasn't dangerous.

The real danger was in the wind.

And in the wind, he could almost hear a dark whisper of his name

_DangerInTheWind

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_

"_Draco?"_

His breath made little clouds of fog upon the windows. Pressing his hand flat against the glass, his eyes followed the path of an angry raindrop sliding down the smooth surface.

**If it were alive, would it scream?**

Draco could hear the wind, still, even with all the silencing charms he'd put up in the past week. He liked it that way, even though he told his mates it was a bother. In the moaning of the wind, he's allowed to forget for a moment. Just be human. Have human desires.

"_Draco?!?"_

Draco Malfoy was worried about the storm. Every day it got closer, every day it got colder, and every morning he could swear his eyes got a little bit greyer. They used to have little silver flecks, metallic, but he was the only one who noticed them. He couldn't see them anymore in his reflection. Draco touched his nose to the glass for a better look.

"_Malfoy!" _

Draco heard Blaise approach but did not react upon his arrival. He backed away from the window and turned his head to the side. He studied the angle his floor and bedpost made.

He'd always liked angles.

"_You shouldn't lean on the window like that. It's dangerous, with all this lightning." _

And eerie smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He hadn't noticed the brilliant flashes before they were mentioned.

And anyway, Draco Malfoy knew that the real danger was in the wind.

One of these days, in one of these moments, he'd let go- and let it carry him away.

It was tempting; the blonde shot another wistful glance at the tempest raging. He knew the worst was still to come.

"_Mate?"_

His smile faded and was replaced by his traditional smirk. He straightened his back and forced himself to exude sarcasm.

"_And when have I been afraid of danger?"_

_DangerInTheWind

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_Author's Note: mmm 'kay, review y'all! It goes somewhere, I promise. _

_Have a wonderful day,_

_TruestBlue_


	2. A Little Less

_Greyer Every Day Chapter 2: _

_This has taken me FOREVER TO UPDATE!!_

_Forgive me?_

_Thanks to all who reviewed.

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_ALittleLess_

Tempest: a violent windstorm, esp. one with rain, hail, or snow.

To Harry, the world was black and white. Not grayscale, just the purest of whites and the deepest of darks. It didn't used to be that way; but the color from his life faded away gradually. Day after day a little less vibrancy. Now all he was left with was a grainy, plain picture.

The only thing that ever stood out to him was Draco. In his mind, Harry called him the silver lining. Mostly, it was his eyes. Little silver flakes thrown in with all that grey. They'd been fighting one night, and Harry was trying to stare the Slytherin down. But he let himself see for a minute. Really see.

And look where it got him.

The storm was growing by the hour. The winds encircled Hogwarts completely. The staff had given up hiding their terror, and the students no longer found the drama so amusing.

They were calling it "The Tempest," and Harry had laughed- there was a muggle play by Shakespeare of that name. No one saw the humor in it, though. No one saw the humor in anything. H

He had to admit: he had grown darker too, since the war. Having blood on your hands, even blood as vile as Voldemort's, changed you forever.

He couldn't get the Dark Lord's eyes out of his head, the second he yelled the killing curse. Still can't.

And he sure as hell can't get the image of Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini making out in the Gryffindor common room out of his head, either. He smiled at the latest couple. He really hadn't seen it coming. No one had. It gave all the drama queens and gossip whores something to talk about besides the weather.

He'd thought about opening the window in his room last night. Let the wind scream through, biting his cheeks, let the air chill his lungs until he thought his heart would burst.

He wished it had. Maybe, then, he could get his heart to feel anything. He found himself shaking his head at the thought: talk about drama.

Harry wondered about the rain. It seemed so cold, he couldn't imagine how it hadn't turned to ice.

Drops hit the glass panels with a sound like the firing of a gun. He loved it when it first started raining, a couple pops every minute, and steadily it grew, and grew faster, so you could hardly hear yourself think anymore.

That was just how he liked it.

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_ALittleLess_

He tried to ignore the circles of jade flicking across his body as he entered the library. But he could already feel a blush rising up into his cheeks.

Why did he have to react to Harry like that? He was supposed to be the Ice-Prince, the cold, sophisticated one. Blushing was not 'chilly.' Nor was it acceptable.

'_For a Malfoy,_' he added, in his head.

The truth of the matter was, Draco Malfoy was starting to slip. The war had taken away the energy he used to have. He had nothing left to keep that stoic mask on his face. He could hide his feelings a little less every day.

Unfortunately, and surprisingly to him, he revealed a feeling towards Harry Potter that he had not expected. And it wasn't hatred: quite the opposite.

He remembered the day when he'd figured himself out. How had he not noticed the sexual tension lying so heavy in the air before? It settled in his chest and choked him. How had he not noticed the intense looks they'd shared had contained a little less hatred than everyone thought?

Harry had grown almost sullen after the war. Draco had been patient. Potter couldn't play dumb anymore: he felt whatever it was as much as Draco.

Draco had not yet named the emotion he felt for Harry. It was less that he didn't know what it was, and more that he didn't care to explain it. Even to himself.

Then he'd have to do something about it. But he might have to anyway, the way things were going.

Draco Malfoy had been patient with Harry Potter, but Draco Malfoy is not a patient man. It was clear Harry would not make the first move.

And Draco Malfoy had a little less patience every day.

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A/N: Here's the not-so-eagarly awaited chapter of Greyer Every Day! It's sad: I didn't think this one was so bad! I might discontinue it; depends on the reviews of this chapter. So the moral is: If you like it, review!!! 

TruestBlue

Oh, and check out Rabid Slash Fans. It's funny. :)


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